


Like Perfection

by Bajni



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:31:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bajni/pseuds/Bajni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Bilbo be able to go on after the Battle of Five Armies? What awaits him at the end of the journey?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Perfection

I realised it was a great chance to turn over a new leaf. I struggled to get up, ignoring the painful throbbing in my ribs in the place where my skin had been pierced by sharp fangs of the beast I had faced earlier. I swayed slightly on my feet and absent-mindedly shrugged off arms of one of my companions who had just helped me up. My gaze was focused entirely on the halfling before me, never leaving his barely trembling form. I instantly noticed the bruising on his delicate face and as anger started boiling up inside me, probably turning my expression sour, the soft features of the hobbit contorted in confusion and anxiety, which however didn't conceal the hints of previous relief. I took a few steps forward in attempt to regain my full composure, yet failed, unable to hide the limping of my right leg.

"You!" – my voice sounded unusually hoarse – "What were you doing? You could have got yourself killed!" – my harsh words referred to the events in which I would have probably lost my life if not for Bilbo – the halfling who had fiercely stood in my defence, risking his own safety, the very same amiable being, who I had been underestimating throughout our whole journey – "Have I not said you'd be a burden? That you'd not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?" – my bitter questions left the hobbit glancing helplessly everywhere but at me, the warm brown irises of his eyes a bit too shiny with moisture. I had no heart to tease him any longer. I strode forward, closing the distance between us, and when I encircled him with my arms, trapping the hobbit in a comforting, yet firm embrace, the words that left my mouth were no longer controlled but filled with all of my emotions and regrets – "I've never been so wrong in all my life."

At first Bilbo went stiff, either offended or surprised by my actions, but upon hearing my confession at failing to notice his true value, he lifted his hands, placing them at my back, and relaxed, burying his face in the fur of my coat. Our close proximity, his scent feeling my nostrils with each inhale and "Thorin" – my name, spoken almost breathlessly against my ear, made me shudder as shivers went down my spine. The moment felt almost sinfully perfect. However life is nought more than a fleeting string of experiences and sensations, which come and go unexpectedly fast, leaving behind only vague reminders of themselves in form of blurry memories, and that moment was no exception. The unyielding winds of fate blew mercilessly at the unsteady flame of the present, and when I heard the merry voices of the rest of my company behind me and gently parted from Bilbo, it flickered lightly before forever disappearing into the swirling mass of events, that there was no returning to. Yet, since it had been already done, I hoped I would be able to make amends for my previous behaviour towards the hobbit so that we might forge something eerily beautiful upon the newly formed friendship and trust.

...

Bilbo neared the king's tent with a heavy heart. The expressions of all the dwarves, he had passed on his way, who were conscious enough to hear and process information, suggested only one thing. Thorin was probably not going to survive the wounds he had received in the victorious battle. The hobbit hesitated before going pass the guards and moving the flap covering the entrance with trembling hands. His throat suddenly went dry at the acrid odour of blood invading his sense of smell. He walked up to the bed located in the middle of the small space, each footfall echoing loudly in his head, fuelling the already furious thunder, which winds were tugging at his soul.

The body on the bed was sickly pale, covered in bandages and numerous furs, that were still not enough to prevent the sticky, red liquid from leaking through. The only movement visible was the uneven rising and falling of chest. The hobbit looked up at the dwarf's face and all of a sudden his legs gave out as the realisation of impending doom hit him hard like a war hammer. Bilbo fell to his knees with a muffled thud, his arms crushing limply onto the soft mattress. An anguish-filled sob echoed through the tent and was soon followed by more similar sounds, getting more frequent as the time was passing by. The hobbit searched frantically for something to hold on to, finally finding a calloused hand, larger than his, and hugging it to himself in a firm grip. As tears started raining down onto the cold skin Bilbo heard a hoarse voice utter his name. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times in an attempt to clear the fog that had formed under his eyelids. He was unable to form words when he finally distinguished Thorin's weary face among the blur of colours in his vision. He lifted himself a bit, moving closer to the king, who struggled to place his hand upon the hobbit's cheek. When Bilbo realised his efforts he pulled the end of the pale limb to his face and put his own hand upon it. They stared at each other for a long time, as if trying to pour all of their feelings into the gaze, until at last Thorin spoke, tiny red trickle forming at the edge of his lips:

"Forgive me...Bilbo..." – the hobbit's heart clenched painfully.

...

The moment Bilbo decided to leave the dwarven kingdom of Erebor and head back to Shire- his homeland, it was of no surprise to anyone. Not even Thorin seemed taken aback by the revelation. What's more, he didn't even hesitate to follow the hobbit, abandoning his scarcely reclaimed land.

The journey was long and much less adventurous than their previous expedition. Bilbo rode beside Gandalf, hardly ever exchanging any words. The only comments were made by the wizard, who soon gave up on the futile attempt to cheer the hobbit up. Thorin strode after them, his eyes lingering on Bilbo almost constantly. When they stopped for camps the hobbit tended to sit numbly, staring into the warm, pulsating light of the fire, his eyes hollow, expression oblivious, until his body would surrender to the heavy weariness placed upon his shoulders and he'd pass out, giving in to the need of sleep. Those were the moments Thorin dared to near him. He would sit beside the smaller body and intertwine his fingers with the soft curls, stroking them with utmost care.

When they crossed a border of the Shire, Gandalf said his farewell and rode off, troubled expression upon his face. Bilbo stared at the wizard's fading silhouette, until it completely disappeared behind the horizon. He turned towards the green hills of his homeland and tried to smile, finally returning home, but only managed to twist his features into a grimace meant to resemble contentment. He couldn't, however, prevent a single tear from falling and slowly trailing down his face. Thorin looked at the hobbit, raw pain radiating off him, and when he lifted his hand with intent to wipe off the salty drop, Bilbo suddenly pulled out, urging his pony into a trot and leaving the dumbfounded dwarf behind.

...

The Bag End – the best hobbit hole in Hobbiton felt oddly un-homely for the first time in Bilbo's life. The silence he had used to appreciate before going on the quest with the company of the dwarves, seemed unfriendly and instead of helping him relax, made the poor hobbit even more restless. He spent the whole day walking aimlessly from room to room, rearranging things only to put them back into place later. Finally, when it was already long after midnight and the only sound from beyond the windows was the rhythmic music of grasshoppers, Bilbo sighed softly and walked into his bedroom, submitting to exhaustion. Thorin soon followed and found the hobbit laying curled on the bed, hugging his legs to his middle as first sobs, since leaving Erebor, accompanied with tears escaped him. The dwarf moved soundlessly through the room and laid on his side beside Bilbo, encircling his arms around his fragile form and clinging to him even long after the quiet cries turned into light snores.

...

A kitchen knife was incredibly cold against the skin of his wrist, drawing out goose bumps as he pressed it more firmly against the flesh above a blood vessel. There was a dull pain as the first drops of red substance started slipping down the hobbit's forearm. Just when he was going to move the blade and slit the little cut completely open, suddenly he felt an almost undetectable cold breeze move past him, yet he was sure all the windows were closed. The feeling vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Bilbo even more empty inside than he thought possible. He focused back on the task at hand but then there was a loud thump, most possibly coming from the room next door, which made the hobbit's heart jump into his throat as he scrambled to his feet from the cold tiles of his kitchen floor. When he entered the nearby room the anxiety that followed at the sight of his bookcase laying in the middle of the room and half of his books scattered everywhere, was enough to prevent him from taking notice of the breeze once again flying past him and the emptiness of his soul being filled just slightly by a pleasant presence.

...

One winter day, when the shadows forming the shapes of the world and its inhabitants were particularly grey and blurry, there came a strong wind from the east. It smelled like earth and stone and somehow reminded Thorin of his forefathers' halls filled with huge piles of gold, that no longer held any significance for him. It blew relentlessly, dispelling the gloomy fogs of life from beneath the dwarf's feet. Yet he stubbornly stood his ground until the phenomenon has passed.

...

It was an unexpected sight, however not an unwelcome one. Quite the opposite, really. The light lifting of the edges of Bilbo's lips abruptly turning into a full smile. And then the genuine chuckle jingling in the fresh spring air as a small hobbit boy run to the older one, almost colliding with him, but coming to a halt just before that could happen, and crushing Bilbo's legs in affectionate embrace. The adult ruffled the young lad's dark hair, his expression glowing with happiness for the first time in many years. Even though Thorin wasn't the reason for the hobbit's joy, there was a unique sense of fulfilment at the sight of the pale face adorned with brown curls finally warming up with beautiful emotions once again. From this day on the shadows didn't blur as much and sometimes the dwarf had the impression that the grey of the world coloured just a bit, making the vague memories a lot more vivid, almost close enough for him to grasp.

...

Bilbo rummaged in an old chest filled with trinkets, old papers and other items that had been laying uselessly since the last time they had been blessed to be grazed by light. He swore under his breath, saying something about blasted relatives being too fond of his belongings. All of a sudden his expression changed to the one of surprise, quickly turning into a kind of nostalgic longing. His fingers traced the edge of an old map, with a mountain drawn in the middle and curved letters above it. "The Lonely Mountain" – Bilbo whispered the words carefully, like if he was afraid of uttering them. Thorin caught glimpse of the paper in the hobbit's hands and instantly moved to stand by his side, afraid Bilbo might fall into the dark abyss of sadness like all those years ago. No such thing happened, for he only smiled wistfully, gently stroking the surface of the yellow parchment.

The hobbit's eyes brightened as he glanced back into the chest, noticing a red book. He took it and opened, making sure all the pages were blank, before going to his study. Bilbo sat behind his desk, placing the newly found things before him. When he opened the book, took a small vial of dark ink and his best quill, and pressed its tip against one of the first pages, his intentions became more than clear to Thorin, who watched him with contentment.

...

The steady tides of time had been constantly crushing into the green land and slowly shaping the shores of Bilbo's life. Their rising and collapsing brought moments imbued with both mirth as well as remorse and sorrow. The diversity was inevitable, for it is the quality of life, often underestimated yet making it more beautiful. Without it, nobody would truly appreciate the time given to them.

When the hobbit reached his hundred and eleventh year, Thorin could sense there wasn't much more left for him. Even though the halfling didn't really bear the burden of his old age in his appearance, he was way past the usual life span of his kin and it was visible in his eyes.

The party was a marvellous event. It was not only Bilbo's birthday but also his adopted nephew's – Frodo's. And it was the lad's coming to age too. Almost all of the Shire folk came, cheering for the happy occasion. Nobody had suspected what might happen that evening, so it was a great astonishment when Bilbo suddenly disappeared after giving his main, and farewell speech, and never came back to his home.

Thorin, of course, knew the hobbit hadn't simply vanished, but using a certain magic ring that granted him invisibility ran off from the party so that he could leave the Shire without his numerous relatives bothering him. He had been planning going on a journey once again, for a long time. Almost none knew of this, but he wished to see Erebor one last time before crossing the rim of the world.

When he stood on his doorstep, accompanied by three of his old dwarvish companions, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon, a slow, wistful tune being hummed into the dark of the night, suddenly something that had been dwelling somewhere deep within his soul for all those years, woke up, ascending to the surface. Bilbo once again could feel the excitement of leaving the safety of his comfortable hobbit hole behind him, and facing the world straight ahead. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering onto the paths of long buried memories. When the face of a certain dwarf king appeared under his half-closed eyelids and he could swear he felt those strong arms around him, for just a split second the hobbit's features brightened with a smile radiating the feelings that had never really died.

...

I felt a chilly, salty breeze ruffle the remains of my once brown curls and caress my wrinkled face in a soothing manner. I looked up to the sky with awe and even though my eyes had been getting worse those previous years I was sure the pitch blackness was adorned with more stars I've ever seen in my life. I couldn't tear my eyes from the breathtaking sight and suddenly my vision started blurring even more than normally. The world shifted and swirled, as I fell onto the cold pranks of the deck. The blinking white points above me began sinking in the darkness of the night, devouring not only them but the whole world and at last myself.

I didn't know if my eyes were open or closed. I didn't know where down or up was. For a moment that felt like eternity, I didn't know anything. It was horrifying, I was as exposed as one can be, with nothing to cover my existence from the surrounding vastness of the universe. But then, when I reached the bottom of the bitter abyss of fear, another presence touched my very being and all came back with an exhilarating speed, filling me once again, making me almost whole. The next thing was my vision coming back. It was no longer blurred but instead seemed the most focused and accurate I remembered ever having.

The moment I saw the azure eyes slightly above me, surrounded by an ocean of dark waves, adorned with silver in a few places, and the happiness radiating off Thorin's face, anything else became irrelevant. All of a sudden everything clicked into place, our scents mingling, our beings shuttering and melting, mixing into the quintessence of euphoria in an explosion that annihilated anything beyond us. It felt like finally coming home from an endless journey. Like at last discovering what was missing. Like the feeling of soft fresh grass beneath fingers after the long months of winter. Like perfection.


End file.
